


State Sanctum

by doggoneit



Series: The Odds Against Us [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Familiars, Gen, M/M, Minor Violence, Shapeshifting, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 02:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7387129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doggoneit/pseuds/doggoneit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tsukishima is flying back from a delivery, he finds a homeless familiar named Kuroo trying to survive by rummaging through human rubbish bins.</p><p>It takes a lot of effort but Tsukishima convinces Kuroo to return with him to Sugawara's sanctuary to regain his health. During Kuroo's time there, they grow closer as they learn about each other's pasts and what they have planned for the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	State Sanctum

If Tsukishima had the choice, he would never visit the metropolis; the noise pollution never ceased and the air pollution choked up his lungs no matter which form he took. He preferred the tranquillity and fresh air that lauded Sugawara’s sanctuary which was situated far into the depths of the woods where no humans interfered.

The only reason he was in the city today was because Sugawara asked him to deliver a letter; one of his clients had ordered a plant which turned out to be more aggressive than expected and thus it was deemed not fit for sale. Sugawara couldn’t email or text his message like a contemporary witch because it contained secrets human eyes were not privy to, and so Tsukishima had the privilege of playing mailbird.

It would’ve been a more suitable role for others in the flock, such as Hinata who still had down feathers puffing up his chest or Kageyama who always volunteered for a chance to spread his wings. Sugawara had insisted though; Tsukishima was a bird and needed to get out more. As far as Tsukishima was concerned, he got out plenty, but he wasn’t about to argue with someone who had the ability to turn him into fertiliser with the flick of a finger.

The letter was addressed to a Yachi H. who lived in a sixth-floor apartment in the middle of the city. The window was open just a crack, and Tsukishima shoved the letter inside with his beak. It landed on the sill where several potted plants basked in the sun. They began waving their leaves and flowers at him and Tsukishima gave a loud caw. No wonder Sugawara refused to sell the Hera flytrap; its territoriality made it unsuitable for a small city apartment with other plants already inhabiting the space.

Job completed, Tsukishima flapped his wings and began the flight home. The cityscape was as bland as always, grey and utilitarian like humans had no cones in their eyes to distinguish colours, or imaginations to make their achievements look visually appealing. They tried making up for it by planting a few trees here and there but it was painfully obvious that the greenery, or rather the lack of it, had only ever been an afterthought.

Humans scuttled across the streets like insects, hurrying towards their next appointments whether it be for work or for lunch. Tsukishima had limited his contact with humans to a minimum, and he didn’t understand how they allowed their lives to run like clockwork day in and day out. Did they truly find satisfaction in these humdrum existences?

_Pathetic._

Tsukishima flew on, outside the inner city where there was not so much hustle and bustle. Here, boutiques melted into townhouses and alleys melted into footpaths. At this time of the day, there weren’t many humans in suburbia so it became a far more peaceful flight.

Until he caught sight of a human form rummaging through a rubbish bin in the corner of his eye.

Tsukishima banked left and the wind rifled through his feathers. He descended, flapping his wings heavy against his body and landing on the top of a white picket fence. His claws clattered over the wood as he hopped closer to the row of rubbish bins to confirm his suspicions.

Fuzzy black ears. Fuzzy black tail.

This man was no human. He was a witch’s familiar committing the illegal act of displaying his feline traits in the potential presence of humans in broad daylight. Tsukishima ruffled his feathers, debating whether or not he should leave this idiot to his own devices, but that went against the unwritten code of conduct between familiars.

He gave a resigned caw and began shifting his form.


End file.
